#anything for my Seán my precious boy my most precious of boys of all time!!! the specialest boy in the world!!!!!!

[tommyssupercoolblog]

me when anyone else asks for the tiniest bite of my food: HOW DARE YOU??? no :( NO >:((( IT IS MINEEE

me when Seán is like. literally just breathing just being him not even asking for food sometimes even when he SAYS he doesn't want food: do you want my food do you wanna have the first bite do you wanna have this bite too do you wanna have half of my sandwich do you want to eat this entire bowl of soup i made while i watch do you want to have the last of these chocolates do you wan-

[sparklepines]

ah man can you do 5 for angst in any universe that inspires you for this one? have at it my man, i’m a sucker for angst and your writing!!!

Prompt: 5. “Wake up! Please, wake up.”(Dediced to write a Coma!AU that I thought about a while ago but I didn’t have the chance to write it yet! :D)

Anti’s sitting on the edge of a bed, in a dim room, and he takes a deep breath. The beeping sounds echo in that place, like a constant hammer into the man’s heart, and he purses his lips while looking at the machines around the bed. His shoulders are hunched down and his tired eyes follow thin tubes that go up to the boy’s nose. Anti sighs, Seán’s sleeping figure coming into focus. The Irishman’s hair is long enough to curl over his forehead and his chest moves up and down. Slowly, barely there. Henrik asked the green-haired man to watch Seán for a couple of days, the doctor being so busy at the hospital. It was so odd. Anti never thought they would call for him. They seem distant anyway. Everyone avoiding to be the babysitter after so long, he supposes.

“I didn’t know.” Anti murmurs. “I didn’t know what I was doing…”

Silence, only broken by those machines that he hates. He grimaces, shaking his head. The corners of his eyes are red but he refuses to let those tears fall. How pathetic of him. So emotional. It was too late by the time he realized that he actually cared. He has regrets in his heart and the quietness in that house crushes him. Anti didn’t know he would miss the Irishman’s voice. Now, no one knows how to bring him back. Not even him. The green-haired man swallows, throat closing, and his fingers twitch. Longing for touch. He slowly moves his hand towards Seán’s and he holds his breath when brushing against porcelain skin. How dare him touch something so pure after what he did? How dare him be in the same room? Breathing? That’s profane.

“Wake up!” he begs, not for the first time, and he tigthens their hold. Their hands fit perfectly but Seán’s cold. Those damn tears stream down his face, escaping without permission, and he bites his bottom lip. “Please, wake up...”

Seán’s heart rate doesn’t change, steady just like those beeping sounds. Anti’s face scrunches up, a sob leaving his mouth, and his pleas are in vain. He brings the boy’s hand up to his forehead, crying while feeling silky skin, and the darkness in the room threatens to consume him whole. This is all his fault. He did this. He took away the most precious thing in his life without a second thought. The world curses his very existence, but a day doesn’t go by that he doesn’t wish to switch places. He would do anything. Anything at all.

Too bad there’s no one to hear him.

___________

my ko-fi

Bonus, a music: What is Love? (feat Alan Watts)

[septic-heart-and-mind]

“Ready Or Not” - “Hide And Seek” (JSE Fic) Pt.2

Inspiration is wild again! Part 2 is here! Hope you like it ^-^

@steffid101 @watermelonsinmyattic @themultiplefandomlover @geekygirl0816 @kodimint @odia13 @theoddowldoodle my fan-fic readers <3

Signe’s POV

We waited in the hospital while we waited to hear how our boy was. I fretted about how I caused the accident to happen; I should never have let him go on his own like I did. I should have insisted that he stayed with me, where he could be safe. I felt so stupid for allowing him to off by himself. He’s not even two, just a little boy. My little boy. And I’d put him danger. I would never forgive myself for this, particularly if he was damaged long-term - or worse. He was here because of me, because of my stupid mistake; I hated myself for allowing him to get hurt.

Jack’s POV

I was beating myself up for what I’d done. If I’d just remembered to close that gate, Sam would be fine now as he wouldn’t have got further than our garden. We would have found him and everything would be alright. We would still be playing together, watching TV or sharing lovely cuddles like we did that morning. But now, his life was hanging in the balance. He was here because of me, because of my stupid mistake. I hated myself for allowing him to get hurt. Signe kept blaming herself, but I reassured her over and over again that it wasn’t her fault. I kept telling her that she had no idea what would happen - and she was probably under the assumption that the gate wasn’t even open. It shouldn’t have been open. Signe letting him go by himself wouldn’t have been an issue if I’d remembered to shut that gate. The only person who was to blame was me. If was seriously hurt or worse, I would never, ever forgive myself for it. After what felt like hours, a doctor came over to talk to us; we jumped out of our seats with anticipation.

“Is he okay?” I cried.

“I’m afraid it’s not good news,” she began. “He’s very, very weak, and we don’t think there’s anything we can do. He’s not going to make it. You might want to say goodbye.” We couldn’t believe what we were hearing.

“No, no, you’ve made a mistake,” I wept.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed, “I wish I had.”

“There must be something you can do!” Signe sobbed. “Please!”

“If there was, we would do it,” she replied sadly, “I wish I could save him, I really do.”

“He’s just a little boy!” Signe cried loudly. “He’s our little boy!”

“I’ll take you to him,” she offered. She led us to the room where he was; he was attached to monitors and machines, which looked terrifying. His face had little colour as the life drained out of him. His chest was barely rising and falling as breathing became more and more difficult. He had almost slipped away just in the time it took us to get to him.

“My poor baby,” Signe wept, stroking his head, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

“Daddy’s sorry, too,” I sobbed, delicately caressing his little face.

“I love you so much,” Signe cried to him in despair.

“We both love you, Sam,” I spluttered. “We’ll always love you… Our little septic solider…”

“Goodbye, my darling,” Signe barely spoke through her tears, before placing a loving kiss on his forehead.

“Goodbye, little man,” I choked, before giving him a kiss too. “I’ll look after Mummy for you…” I continued through sobs.

“And I’ll take care of Daddy…” Signe uttered as she cried harder. Signe tightly took hold of my hand. At that moment, Sam gave up. Despite knowing it would happen, we were still in terrible shock. They did try and resuscitate him, just in case he could hold on. We both wished that he would somehow make it; even if he was brain-damaged or something like that, at least our boy would be alive. We just weren’t ready to lose him, he wasn’t much more than a baby. He was an innocent toddler with his entire life ahead of him - a future that we looked forward to. We tried to be the best people and the best parents we could be; what had we done to deserve losing our boy? They tried their hardest to save him, trying for longer than they even thought was worth it in the hope that he might respond. But he didn’t. The flatline on his monitor never changed. Eventually, his brain was starved of oxygen for so long that there was no chance that he would be revived. The doctor gave us the announcement that he really was gone.

“No, no he’s not!” I cried out in denial. I started to try and resuscitate him myself. I was not losing him, not today.

“Mr. Mcloughlin,” the doctor said sympathetically, “It’s no use. He won’t survive now. He’s gone, I’m so sorry.”

“No!” I screamed out, still trying to bring him back. “Come on, soldier! Daddy needs you! Mummy needs you! Please come back!”

“He won’t come back,” the doctor sighed, “I’m really sorry. I know this is hard for you but you need to let him go.”

“I’m not giving up on him!” I wept. “I’m not, I’m not!” But as I said it, I was losing hope rapidly and my resuscitation efforts decelerated to nothing. I sobbed heavily.

“No, no, no, not my boy!” Signe cried loudly. “Not my boy! No!” We embraced each other tightly as we stood beside our poor little boy. We cried together and stayed with him for a while until they had to take him away. Signe screamed as I held her in my arms. On the way out, the driver saw us. At first I was angry, but I soon was back to being heartbroken. The driver hugged me and apologised profusely. I told him not to because it wasn’t his fault. It was mine. The doctor who had spoken to us kindly got us a taxi home. We cried all the way there, and all I thought about was how much I missed Sam and hated myself for what I’d done to him. I’d killed him. I’d killed our boy. When we got home, the first thing we saw was his toys on the floor. Signe broke down sobbing, unable to even stand. She picked up his green truck and cried like her heart was being ripped out. I knelt down and cradled her. We stayed there, just crying for ages like we wouldn’t ever stop. We couldn’t move, paralysed by grief. After a while, Signe was tiring out from sobbing; she still cried, but she became quieter.

“It’s all my fault…” she spluttered.

“Shhh, no, sweetheart,” I comforted her. “No. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I killed our boy!” she wept shakily.

“You didn’t, darling, you didn’t,” I tried to soothe her. “None of this is your fault, I promise.”

“It hurts, Seán!” she sobbed, “It really hurts!”

“Shhh, I know, skat, I know,” I cried softly. Eventually, she picked herself up and began to tidy away Sam’s toys. “You don’t have to do that just yet, babe,” I told her caringly.

“I might as well,” she wept bitterly, “He’s not here anymore. Because of me.”

“It wasn’t your fault!” I insisted affectionately.

“Yes it was!” she screamed. “It’s all my fault!” I tried to hug her, but she flinched away. “Leave me alone, Seán! I don’t deserve it! I killed our boy!” At those words, she turned away and went upstairs. I decided to give her space for a minute. I wandered over to Sam’s toy box. I opened it, and gazed inside at all the toys that would never be played with again. Heartbroken and guilty, I slammed the lid of the box before throwing a few punches at it. Hard. My knuckles were bruised and sore, but it didn’t compare to the agony in my heart. I didn’t care because I deserved it all. I deserved pain after what I’d done to Sam, to us. I’d killed our son, and I’d broken Signe’s heart. I’d turned her world upside down forever.

Signe’s POV

I sat in Sam’s room on his little bed, which he’d only got a few days ago. I found his Septiceye plush there, and I cuddled it. It was getting soaked by my tears. I got out his little t-shirt that said ‘baby boss’ on it, and clutched to my chest along with the plush. I took them to our room and lay on our bed with them, weeping for Sam and wishing that he was just hiding now. I soon heard footsteps up the stairs and into our room. I looked and saw Seán, who gazed back at me with red, sorrowful eyes. He walked over and got onto the bed, and he cuddled me close. His heart was thumping in his chest, like it wanted to break out.

“I’ll get you through this,” he comforted me lovingly. “I did this to you, so I’m gonna do everything I can to make it better.”

“You can’t…” I wept. “You can’t bring back my boy…”

“Oh, skat…” he sighed, before kissing my head. “I love you, you know that, don’t you?” he continued. I nodded.

“I love you, too, Seán,” I cried. We shared a kiss, which slightly soothed the pain for a short moment, but it returned in full force when our lips parted. I rested my head on him again, my tears continuing to soak his t-shirt. He stroked my head slowly and gently. As I lay there, I wondered why he even loved me still. Why did he love me after what I’d done? I’d robbed him of one of the most precious things in his life, and I’d stolen Sam’s chance at a future. I was a thief of things that could never be returned, yet Seán still cared about me. I didn’t deserve him or his love. I didn’t deserve Sam, either, but Seán did. He never did anything to deserve so much pain. Nor did Sam deserve to lose his life.

Jack’s POV

As I held Signe in my arms, I wondered why she even wanted me near her. She didn’t even seem to blame me, even though Sam had only gotten hurt and killed because of me being an idiot. Not only that, but she was now in terrible pain because of it, pain that she didn’t deserve. She hadn’t earned even a fraction of it. And the worst part was there didn’t seem to be anything I could do to ease it. Nothing I said or did made much difference, because it was Sam she wanted. All we wanted was for Sam to come out of his hiding place and for life to carry on as normal. But our world had stopped still, and Sam was never coming back. Our little boy was gone forever. How could I make that better? How could I make Signe be alright again? How would I ever be alright again? My heart felt like it was literally breaking, and it was as though it would actually kill me. If it wasn’t for leaving Signe behind, I was okay with that; I deserved it, and at least then I wouldn’t be able to miss Sam and hurt anymore. Everything would be okay, just like we wanted, and I couldn’t make any more stupid mistakes. I felt suffocated by grief. The more I thought about Sam, the harder it seemed to be to breathe. My chest ached. My eyes were red raw and I felt like I’d cried all my tears, yet they continued to pour out relentlessly. I missed him more than I could ever have imagined; not that I did, because I never expected to lose him so young. No parent imagines outliving their child, but happens whether you’re ready or not. It goes against the natural order, and just should not happen - but I made it happen. I took my innocent boy’s life, and I wished I could trade places with him.